


adamo

by erzi



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzi/pseuds/erzi
Summary: "A museum," he says. "Maybe you could find inspiration there.""Maybe," Yusuke says, considering it, "but I feel I might lose myself admiring the art instead."And here his reason for his suggestion: "What if I go with you so that doesn't happen?"Yusuke blinks at him. And brightens. "I think that could help. I could tell you what makes each painting or sculpture unique, and in that perhaps I can find a way to bring that into my own work." He places his palms flat on the counter, leaning forward with excitement. "When do you have time?""Whenever you do," Akira replies. He means it.





	adamo

The rich scent of coffee and murmurs of the television have made Akira, slouching behind Leblanc's counter, somewhat sleepy. There have been no customers since his evening shift started, and his mind has drifted in and out of reality: he takes in the cozy empty coffee shop, he imagines it loud with his friends; he looks at the still glass door with its little overhead bell; he hears it jingle as someone walks in.

"I hope you don't mind my being here," that someone says as they take a seat in front of Akira, who startles.

He takes off his glasses to rub his eyes, orange pinpricks of light behind his lids disappearing to tell him that yes, Yusuke really is right there at the counter. Immediately Akira fixes his posture. "You're always welcome here," he says, though he'd meant to keep that neatly in his head. He glances down to smooth out his apron, avoiding Yusuke's eyes.

"I suppose I should order something. You are a business, after all," Yusuke says, something off in his voice.

So Akira looks back up and sees the corner of Yusuke's mouth is turned down. His hand flat on his apron twitches, wanting to smooth that away, too. Yusuke could be here just because, and he wants to say so, but instead he asks, "Want a latte?"

Yusuke vaguely nods.

Akira begins to prepare it, doing his best not to rush through it and ask Yusuke what's wrong. When he slides the cup on its plate over to Yusuke, he belatedly realizes he laced a series of hearts with the milk.

Yusuke doesn't notice, quietly thanking him and taking a small sip. He sets the cup down with a clink, folding his hands together in front of him, eyeing the counter with distant concern. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

He nods, then realizes Yusuke cannot see that. He says, sincere, "Any time."

Yusuke looks up, and some of his worry has lifted from his shoulders; he sits a little straighter, suggests a tiny smile. "Thank you." He sighs. "Lately, I have been uninspired in my art. I have not been able to create anything new; all I've painted recently seem to be... repetitions of what I have previously done. It has had me worried." He lightly picks up the coffee cup, now noting the milky art. Unexpectedly, his smile widens. "That's lovely."

Expectedly, Akira's chest flutters. Yusuke is complimenting the art itself, not the intention. But it's fine. It's a compliment from Yusuke. As Yusuke drinks, Akira tries to tidy up his thoughts coming at him every which way: that all artists experience blocks, that Yusuke is talented and talent can never die, that whatever Yusuke makes is good anyway, that the smile he gave him is art of its own.

He goes with, "I know you'll find yourself again, Yusuke."

That smile again. "Your faith in me is a force to be reckoned with, Akira." He drinks again, expression solemn. "As grateful as I am for it, I wish I could turn that into something tangible at my hands. Something to create." He looks at Akira apologetically. "This must sound as if I do not appreciate you listening to me and supporting me, but that's not the case. I'm simply..." He trails off, unable to word his dismay.

He doesn't need to. Akira can sense what he means. Just as Yusuke uses colors to describe how he sees the world, Akira uses Yusuke's quirks to glean what he doesn't say.

"It's okay," he says. "I know."

Yusuke relaxes. His eyes drift to the Sayuri hanging on the wall; Akira follows his gaze. The cafe's subtle lighting glows on it like a dream.

A thought comes to him.

"A museum," he says. "Maybe you could find inspiration there."

"Maybe," Yusuke says, considering it, "but I feel I might lose myself admiring the art instead."

And here his reason for his suggestion: "What if I go with you so that doesn't happen?"

Yusuke blinks at him. And brightens. "I think that could help. I could tell you what makes each painting or sculpture unique, and in that perhaps I can find a way to bring that into my own work." He places his palms flat on the counter, leaning forward with excitement. "When do you have time?"

"Whenever you do," Akira replies. He means it.

"Tomorrow, then. Let's meet at the subway station at 11."

Akira nods his acknowledgment.

Yusuke finishes his drink in higher spirits than when he'd arrived. He heads for the door but pauses. He turns back.

"I knew coming here would be a good decision," he says. "Thank you, Akira, truly. You understand me." One last smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you."

The bell rings as Yusuke exits.

When he's rounded the corner, Akira pats himself on the back.

* * *

Yusuke decides they'll visit the National Museum of Western Art.

"As we have been there before, I'm hoping a second visit opens my eyes to things I was blind to last time," he explains as they board the subway.

Two seats are empty, which they gladly take; the trip is two trains and three-quarters of an hour long. Yusuke spends it looking out the window, absorbed by gray underground and green aboveground scenery alike. Akira's eyes flit between the blurry scenery and Yusuke himself, with Yusuke far more interesting to watch than a city he knows. Not that he doesn't know Yusuke; he likes to think he does, and Yusuke has said so himself. But the city is always there, changing only minutely: in seasons, in the people that cross it. Yusuke can change in a thousand different ways – in his facial expression, his body language, his voice – and each of those has its own thousand variations. The city cannot possibly hope to compare to him.

The day is January crisp, with the bare trees lining the walkways reaching for that thin blue sky. Yusuke tucks his chin into his jacket. "Almost there," he says.

Akira doesn't mind if walking takes an hour. It's more time with Yusuke, even if it's spent in companionable silence.

The walk to the museum is short. Showing their student IDs, they get free entrance to the permanent collection. As quickly as that, the museum is theirs.

Well. Theirs and the other visitors'. But Akira chooses to ignore them.

They start with the sculptures.

Yusuke stands close to Akira, and leans in to his ear. "I much prefer to admire sculptures rather than sculpting myself," he says, voice quiet out of courtesy, but it sends a tingle up Akira's back. "Tell me, what do you see?"

Akira slowly glances around. "...naked people."

Yusuke chuckles. "You're certainly right in that. Although there is one sculpture of a robed man at the back." He approaches the one in the middle. "I would say this one is the most famous here. It is a cast, of course, but it doesn't make it any less impressive."

The sculpture, of a man sitting deep in thought, does look familiar to Akira. He reads the plaque and sees it's called _The Thinker_.

"What do you suppose he's thinking about?" Yusuke asks him.

Akira considers the statue once more. The man is absorbed by his thoughts, but because he pushes his weight onto his hand upholding his chin, because his brow is furrowed, because his muscles are taut, it doesn't seem to Akira he mulls over good things.

"Something painful," Akira says. "But something he has to think about, anyway."

"Yes!" Yusuke says, louder than the accepted volume, and gets a few looks. "Sorry," he adds, lowering his voice. "It excited me you think the same as I do."

This is Yusuke in his element. Akira can't help a small smile back. "It's in the way he sits and looks."

"Exactly!" He smiles. "Maybe I won't need to explain to you what meanings I see in art. You have an eye for it, as well!"

And he clasps one of Akira's hands between his. "If anything else grabs your attention," he says, as Akira stares and stares at his hand in Yusuke's, "do tell me why. Perhaps an outsider's perspective could also help invigorate my sense of what art is."

Yusuke has the fine, long fingers of an artist, and his skin still bears winter's touch. Akira, aware of the hot pulse of blood in his hand's arteries, wonders what it would be like to kiss the cold away, to share some of that warmth in him.

But Yusuke slips his hands away, too soon, and goes to look at the other sculptures. None interest Akira much, and it's somewhat difficult for him to treat these nude works as professionally as Yusuke does, so his eyes dart about. They always come back to Yusuke, though, himself looking like a living, freer version of _The Thinker_ as he studies the art. And prettier too, of course.

Yusuke turns, pointing up. "Shall we proceed to the paintings on the second floor?"

"Sure." He says it casually enough, but he knows that's where Yusuke will shine even more.

They go up the ramp.

The paintings are all in earthy tones against austere white walls, drawing the eye.

"Simply beautiful," Yusuke murmurs, walking up to the first painting.

Little as Akira knows of art, he can definitely tell these are Western paintings. The colors are warmer, the lines smudgier, the mood gloomier. While nice to look at, it's not Yusuke's usual art style. He asks Yusuke why he chose to visit this museum and not one with Japanese art.

There, in Yusuke's eyes, the light Akira loves. "To learn as much as I can. What good is a pursuer of aesthetics if they won't open themselves up to other fields?" He turns back to the paintings, seeing more than Akira, certainly, as he occasionally hums to himself or mutters a comment on its composition.

While the paintings are nice, they look mostly the same to Akira's untrained eye – they are of somber people, of empty landscapes – and he has nothing to say for the time being. He continues to watch Yusuke: here, he raises his eyebrows; there, he taps his lips with an elegant finger; further ahead, he rests a hand on his hip and tilts his head.

This last action is so endearing Akira's inhale stutters. It takes place in silence, as does the unraveling string of things he has wanted to say to Yusuke. So Yusuke does not hear, does not know. He moves on to the next painting, Akira following a short distance behind.

And here, Akira's breath entirely leaves him. For a moment, time is suspended: the other museum visitors halt halfway through their footsteps; dust motes in rectangles of light hang thickly in the air as if in honey; all murmured conversations and easy-to-ignore background noise and even the inner hums of Akira's organs cease. It is utterly silent and still in this moment where Yusuke stands in front of a painting wrought in blue and white and gold, the colors of a brilliant sunrise, of the sky – of the heaven, filled with angels – that it depicts. The divine figures exalt something in the middle, but Akira cannot see what it is because Yusuke is in the way. But precisely due to where Yusuke stands, it makes it look like the painting is framing _him_. The joy of the heavens is due to him.

That second's worth of frozen time quickly melts, and the museum continues as it had. Akira huffs, and this Yusuke hears.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, turning around, worry creasing his face.

"Um," Akira says.

"You look somewhat dizzied." Yusuke lightly grabs his elbow. "Do you need to sit down?"

He shakes his head. "I'm fine."

Yusuke withdraws his hand, and Akira regrets having refused him. Then Yusuke says, "Could it be... did the painting affect you?"

Akira draws his mouth into a thin line.

It seems Yusuke can sometimes listen to what he doesn't say just as Akira can to him. "That can happen," he says. "Art is powerful; it is meant to move us, and sometimes, certain pieces strike the heart quickly." He looks at the painting. "Though I must say, I didn't think one with Christian theology would be the artwork to get to you." He turns back to Akira, corners of his lips turned up. "But art can be curious, too."

"What's it depicting?" Akira asks, just to hear more of him.

"I'm not terribly sure. I like Western art, but its religiosity isn't my area of expertise." He reads the placard with information. " _The Glorification of St. Felix and St. Adauctus_. Hmm. So martyrs ascending to heaven? I do not know what they are the saints of, though, or why they were martyred. Your guess is as good as mine." Yusuke rests his hand on his chin, eyeing him. "I'm curious: what did you like about it? I didn't take you for one moved by religious artwork."

"Um," Akira says again.

"It's alright if you cannot describe it. Often, it's something instinctive that can't be put to words-"

"It was you."

The rest of Yusuke's sentence dwindles to nothing. His lips remain parted.

"While you were looking at it," Akira continues, motioning to the painting with his head, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets, "it looked beautiful. The colors and everything. With you in the middle, it was like the angels were pointing at you." The calm with which he speaks belies the fraying of his nerve endings, sending stinging sparks of electricity everywhere in him.

It's as close to a confession as can get. He isn't sure how he is expecting Yusuke to react. Yusuke is kind of maybe totally oblivious to how Akira feels about him, but as entwined as Yusuke is with art, maybe connecting his feelings with it will reach him.

They don't.

"Having the viewer be part of the art itself – how interesting!" Yusuke says, beaming. "It has been done before, but rather more with modern art. I don't know if the artist meant for that, but as the ones consuming the work, we find our own interpretations regardless. I am glad you found something that so moved you."

Akira lets out a long, quiet breath.

They keep making their way around the exhibition, Akira always a few steps behind Yusuke. Nothing else quite gets his attention, especially when his mind repeatedly plays the sight of Yusuke at the saintly painting and the consequent disaster. But it doesn't really matter. Akira didn't suggest this trip so he could look at paintings.

Soon, he finds himself smiling again. It's impossible not to when Yusuke is so enthralled by all he sees, and how he shares that excitement with him when he just _has_ to speak, and when Akira prompts more out of him.

Art captivates Yusuke, and in that, Akira sees how he feels about him. Unlike Yusuke, he isn't good at expressing himself. But if he does – as earlier – Yusuke can't quite read between the lines. Akira sighs, not entirely out of weariness, but in accepting this is how Yusuke is. And it's fine. He keeps these quiet feelings to himself, content in being by Yusuke. The time for their freeing will come.

They turn a corner, and Akira glances about, recognizing the paintings as the first they'd come across. "Did we finish?"

"It seems so," Yusuke says, disappointment tinging his voice.

"Want to get something to eat?" Akira quickly suggests, not wanting to let go of his day with Yusuke so easily.

"I didn't bring any money."

"I'll pay."

"I couldn't possibly accept it after you took the trouble to accompany me here."

"I'll pay," Akira insists, putting his hand on Yusuke's shoulder. Yusuke being taller, Akira has to stretch his arm out just so, and if he got on the tips of his toes, if he leaned all of his weight onto that hand, he could reach up and-

"Are you sure?"

Akira slowly blinks, slowly takes his hand away. "Yeah."

The museum has a café, which Akira offers they go to, but Yusuke shakes his head.

"If you don't mind, I would prefer to go to Leblanc," Yusuke says, a small smile playing on his lips. "Your drinks are unparalleled."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

Akira offers Yusuke the window seat again. Even though they had taken the same trains earlier, it's as if Yusuke has never seen Tokyo zipping by before. But the same could be said for Akira, as he continues to watch Yusuke. It's the same person, but what he does is always new. Akira never tires of it. 

* * *

Back at Leblanc, Sojiro works the counter. Out of habit, he greets them as the door jingles their entrance, but his polite expression changes to a smirk when he sees it's Akira and Yusuke.

"Guess that answers where you've been," he says as Yusuke sits at the counter and Akira goes behind it.

Yusuke elaborates. "We visited an art museum. It was Akira's idea, in fact. I'm very grateful for it; I feel like talking to him undid some of my mental knots." He smiles at him, and it's like it's just the two of them enveloped by coffee and wood and soft yellow light.

"Well, since you're here, I'm taking a break," Sojiro says, untying his apron and folding it over his arm. He nods to Akira. "Take care of business for a while, will you? 'Scuse me."

It really is the two of them now.

Akira coughs lightly. "Another latte?"

Yusuke's smile hasn't wavered. "Please."

Preparing coffee is a soothing ritual of its own; it's easy to get lost in the methodical movements, but with Yusuke there, Akira is alert. He thinks he can feel the twin stars of Yusuke's eyes on him; he doesn't check to confirm, but he acts as if it is true. This time he does realize he pours the steaming milk to form hearts. He does the same for his own cup.

"Here," he says, putting Yusuke's drink in front of him. "I'll go get snacks."

Yusuke had been sitting motionlessly, but this breaks whatever spell he'd cast on himself. "Hmm? Oh. Yes."

At the back, he finds an unopened pack of chocolate-covered cookies, and he brings them over.

"If you're still hungry after," he says, sitting next to Yusuke, "I can make curry."

"I wasn't too hungry, so I think this will be just fine." He takes a cookie. "Thank you."

Akira grabs a cookie too. He considers it a moment, and then looks at Yusuke. "So the trip really helped you out?"

Somehow, Yusuke perks up more. "Yes! Being able to talk about art, rather than trying to keep it tidied in my head, helped bring forth the thoughts on what it is I seek that I couldn't quite place. Had I been alone, these ideas would have continued to fester in my mind. But you were there to ask me questions and to even comment what you thought." He takes a contemplative sip of his coffee. "It may not seem like much to you, but it was to me. Thank you again, Akira."

Boldness surges in him. "If you want to see another museum, I'll go with you."

"There are plenty of them in Tokyo." He catches Akira's eyes. "I might need you with me again."

Again and again.

Time slips by as they chat and drink and eat and come to the last cookie in the box at the same time, hands touching.

They look at each other.

"You can have it," Akira says, removing his hand after a moment's silent beat.

Yusuke shakes his head. "You were kind enough to go to a museum with me today, and then to give me food and drink for free. It's yours."

Hesitant, Akira takes it. And swiftly breaks it in two. "Your half," he says, handing it to Yusuke.

Yusuke accepts it with a smile.

With that, there is nothing else for them here. But Akira cannot think of another reason for Yusuke to stay besides wanting him to.

"I'll take my leave now," Yusuke says. He stands up. "But when I next go to a museum, I shall let you know."

A quick breath in. "Doesn't have to be a museum."

"What do you mean?"

Loosely curled fists. "Anywhere you want to go, I'll go with you."

Yusuke's eyes widen a little. And then he closes his eyes, smiling to himself. "And there you'll be," Yusuke says, opening his eyes back up. It's woven like a promise, and Akira lets it wrap around his heart.

Yusuke glances at the glass jars of coffee beans neatly along the wall. "While you were preparing the coffee," he says, "you were very focused. I believe I felt the same as you did watching me look at art. As you so diligently worked, you were art, too."

The words ring in Akira's ears. Yusuke _had_ been watching him. Yusuke thought he was _art_.

Yusuke turns to him, calmly as ever, clueless of the effect he has on him. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon, regardless of the circumstances."

Akira nods mutely.

Yusuke wishes him a good rest of the day, and again Akira can only nod back, and so Yusuke leaves heralded by the door's bell.

Akira crosses his arms on the counter and hides a smile into them. 

**Author's Note:**

> for a friend
> 
> -'adamo' is the conjugated form of 'adamare'; it is a latin word meaning ['i love truly, earnestly, deeply or greatly; covet'](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/adamo#Latin)  
> -pieces referenced: [the thinker](http://collection.nmwa.go.jp/en/S.1959-0039.html); [the glorification of st. felix and st. adauctus](http://collection.nmwa.go.jp/en/P.2008-0001.html). the latter isn't currently on display but ssssh let me have my gay metaphor


End file.
